


we were made for gardens

by tomatoconveniencestore



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Filmmaking, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatoconveniencestore/pseuds/tomatoconveniencestore
Summary: When Eskild announces he's about to star in a documentary, Isak doesn't pay him much attention. But once he accidentally gets involved himself, it's not only the film he starts to care about, but also its director.





	we were made for gardens

Isak has to take a few steps back when he opens the door to the apartment. Instead of finding the hall empty, filled only with a messy tangle of shoes on the floor as usual, he walks into what looks like a television set. Several lights are concentrating on the centre of the room where a couch sits, facing an empty tripod, surrounded by cables. He blinks, taking it all in.

"Hello, Isak!" Eskild comes into the room, greeting him casually. He heads towards the bathroom, acting as if the hall looked completely normal, and Isak gives him a pointed frown.

"Uh, Eskild, what's all this?" he asks, pointing towards what vaguely looks like a kit of recording equipment next to their coat hanger. Eskild follows his finger, and straightens up, grinning.

"Even's here!" he says, easily, as if that's explanation enough for the entire situation. Isak's expression betrays that it probably isn't, so Eskild continues; He pitches his voice down, as if talking to a very small child. "The filmmaker guy I've told you about? The one who wants to interview me for a school project?"

Isak vaguely remembers a mention of something along those lines. It was probably months ago and he let it slip his mind. Or, and that’s more likely, he was not really giving Eskild his full attention at the time, scrolling through his Facebook feed or playing Tetris on the phone.

"Is that today?" he says, finally venturing into the hall, and taking off his backpack.

"Duh," Eskild replies, and moves to stand in front of the full-length mirror that he and Noora always fight over in the mornings. He smooths back his hair, puckers up his lips, gives himself a thorough once-over. "Do I look okay?"

"Fabulous," Isak mutters half-heartedly and he slips by him and moves into the living room. Inside, another surprise awaits him.

A boy is sitting on their couch, playing around with the controls of a camera in his lap. Isak starts at the sight, taking him in. A white T-shirt, simple jeans. Stylishly coiffed blonde hair, with only a few strands falling onto his forehead, and a face scrunched up in concentration, as the boy gazes at the camera display. Isak is struck by the boy’s familiarity, thinks he's seen him around in school. Seen him, and stared. Much like he's caught doing now, when the guy looks up and gives him a dazzling smile.

"You must be Isak!" he says, jovial, standing up and approaching him with his hand held out. "I'm Even. Sorry for invading your flat like this."

Isak squeezes his hand, a little taken aback. He smiles at Even, though, shrugging his shoulders. "No worries, it’s one of the less bizarre things Eskild’s done here."

The boy, Even, laughs; it's a full-hearted chuckle, one that Isak finds a bit too excessive for a comment of this magnitude. That doesn't stop him from feeling flattered.

"I don't know about that, but," Even says when he calms down, "I'm very excited I get to talk to him. Has he told you about the film?"

"Uh – _yes_!" Isak lies. Well, it's not so much of a lie; Eskild must’ve been going on about the film for ages. It's just that he doesn't remember most of what he's told them. It’s a school project. Two directors, maybe? There was neon body paint involved, possibly. "It's a... documentary?"

It comes out as more of a question than he'd like, but Even remains enthusiastic, nodding.

"About the -" Isak tries to pry his memory open, to extract some more useful forgotten facts. "About the alternative club scene in Oslo?"

Even scrunches his nose a little, but nods. "It's about the city's queer culture, yes."

Isak’s cheeks heat up, he feels as though he didn’t correctly answer a teacher’s question. Maybe he should pay Eskild a little more attention from now on.

"So, you're gonna interview people at gay bars, ask about their dating life?" he asks, with put-upon nonchalance.

He knows he’s gay, the realization slowly settling in for a few months. There’s not a single soul he has told, and thinking of himself along those lines – it still doesn’t come easily. But, as he catches himself gazing at the way some of Even's hair curls up behind his ears and grazes his skin, he knows he has to accept it. Sooner rather than later.

"That, too," Even says, blind to his awkwardness. "I would love to get some of their families and friends involved, to show how people are growing more accepting."

"Uh-uh," Isak nods, growing more interested. For a school project, he's mostly pictured a colourful, amateuristic reel of the city's most popular gay clubs. Maybe some quick introductions of their patrons. Knowing Eskild, he’d imagined him acting as a tour guide, inviting the audience to come party along.

"And I want to delve into the city's history, too," Even continues, still oblivious. "Did you know there used to be a gay club near Hartvig Nissen in the 70s?"

Isak, intrigued by the trivia, doesn't have time to form a proper response. Instead, Eskild barges into the room, now wearing a completely different of red shorts and a printed tee, and with a bit of highlighter smeared on his cheeks.

"Ready to go, captain?" he asks Even, and the other boy nods vibrantly, gripping his camera tighter.

"Yeah, let’s get to it!" he tells Eskild eagerly and heads towards the hallway. Just before he exits the room, he looks back at Isak. "You're welcome to join us, you know."

He winks, then leaves without waiting for a reply. Isak remains unmoving, dumbfounded. Did he imagine that? What did it _mean_? He doesn’t understand, yet he feels as if suddenly there are knots in his stomach, thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

Once the filming gets underway, he closes the door and pretends to study for his Norwegian class in the living room. He can still hear parts of their conversation and random bursts of laughter, mostly Even’s. When he can’t concentrate on the proper use of indefinite pronouns anymore he opens the door a smidge to look at them.

The hall is set up in the same way as when he got home but now Eskild's sitting on the couch, and Even faces him with the camera.

"So, was that before you came out to your parents?" Even asks, holding out the sound recorder towards Eskild.

"I mean, they kind of knew already," Eskild says, waving his hand around as if the point was obvious enough. "But I suppose coming home at three, drunk on cider and wrapped in a Pride flag, hammered it in."

They both laugh and Isak has to stifle his own chuckle. He hesitates in the doorway for a few seconds, finding that he enjoys the scene before him. Although Eskild's face is lit with the harsh lights, his posture unusually poised and prim, he looks comfortable. In a way, they seem to be just talking, as if the camera was only a second-thought. He almost feels like he could walk in a throw Eskild a question of his own, and Even would just appreciate the authenticity. He doesn't, though, and he backs out, returning to his books.

***

Two weeks later, there's Even again, this time setting-up his equipment in their living room.

"Wanted to get a small change of scenery," he says in explanation, smiling as if aware of his own silliness. Isak doesn't question his motive, and helps him move the furniture until it fits Even's vision.

Ever since that first day of shooting, Even has been a regular guest in their flat. Officially, he was doing further research on Eskild's story, and trying to get a feeling for what his day-to-day life was like. In practice, this meant he would turn up at random times of the day, sometimes cooking the whole flat breakfast, another time joining their pregame before taking out the camera and following Eskild to this or that gay club. He has skilfully blended into their routines; and Isak was glad for his constant presence, as much as it kept him on edge.

"Are you guys going out after you wrap up here?" he asks now, once they are done arranging the cushions on the couch and Even's moved on to set up the tripod.

"Depends on when Eskild gets here," Even says, glancing at his wristwatch. "He texted me that he might be late."

"Yeah, the new job's keeping him busy," Isak nods, and, finding himself standing around uselessly, starts playing with the lightning rigs that they've just plugged in.

"Are you about the same height as Eskild?" Even asks suddenly.

"Just about, maybe a little taller," Isak says, a little uncertain.

"Could you help me with this bit?" Even gives him a sincere, apologetic smile, pointing towards the tripod. "I want to have it set-up correctly before he gets here."

"Uh, sure," Isak agrees, but he remains standing on the spot. Even chuckles, grabs him by both shoulders, and gently sits him down on the couch. Isak's heart lurches at the contact. Momentarily, he's glad Even's back to tinkering with the camera, as he's pretty sure there's a blush spreading on his cheeks. Then he realizes the camera is aimed straight at him, and Even's fond gaze is focused on the preview screen.

"Can you stay there for a sec?" Even asks, and moves to play with the lights. Isak closes his eyes at their intensity, but when he opens them, they're more mellow, almost intimate. Even checks the screen again, nods.

"I can't afford a proper mic, so we don't have to do a sound check," he says, taking out his sound recorder and turning on a couple of switches.

Isak tries to relax into the couch, telling himself the camera's not on anyway.

"Anything else I can help with?" he asks, half of him wishing he can find another reason to stick around, the other half hoping he can make up an assignment and slip into his own room.

Even hesitates, then nods. "Actually, would you mind running through the questions with me?"

He takes out a small notebook from his backpack and starts flipping through its pages. Isak notices half of them are filled with sketches and comic strips, while the rest is covered in Even’s neat handwriting.

“Do I pretend to be Eskild?” he asks, smirking. He’s never fancied himself a good actor, but he can’t pass up an opportunity to play his friend.

“Sure,” Even laughs, finding the page he was looking for and settling on it. He schools his face into a professional mask that Isak’s never actually seen him wear when interviewing Eskild, but cracks up almost immediately. It might have something to do with the way Isak’s perched himself on the edge of the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, and mimicking his friend’s characteristic easy excitement.

“So,” Even coughs to weed the laughter out of his voice, “we’re gonna continue from where we left off last time. You were telling me about how you moved out from your parents’ house. Four years ago, I think?”

“Yes,” Isak plays along, without pause. “I can’t believe it’s been such a long time!”

“Was it a student flat you went to, straight away?”

“Yeah, a couple of girls from high school were looking for a roommate and they figured I was a safe choice,” he says simply, knows Eskild’s story by heart.

“Was it a smooth transition?” Even asks, crossing something off in his notes.

“The first time I did my own laundry I dyed all the clothes blue,” Isak fake-shudders,” and I almost set the house on fire once when I was making chips.”

Even glances up at him, obviously enjoying the performance. “Not really, then?”

“Nah, it was great,” Isak shrugs, “For the first time I could sing in the shower. And out of the shower. And I didn’t have to wear pants around the house, the girls didn’t mind. I miss that now!”

He pauses, thinking about that horrifying experience after his own move-in, when he found a pantless Eskild doing yoga in the living room. Apparently, that had been a habit of his, and he’s still not forgiven Isak for forcing him to give it up.

“And how did your parents take it?” Even says, making another note, and looking up at Isak expectantly.

“Uh,” he stumbles, shrugs again. “I don’t really know – about Eskild’s parents, I mean. I know they – they are really close.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have to ask him anyway,” Even says, noticing that Isak’s suddenly grown less animated.

He doesn’t ask a follow-up question right away, thinking. He looks up at Isak, his eyes a little guarded. “What about your parents?”

“How did they take it, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not that good,” Isak’s surprised by his own honesty. Surprised, but not uncomfortable. He supposes it’s easier to talk about now that some months have passed. “I mean, my dad didn’t live with us anymore, but he was mad at my mum for letting me move out.”

“A bit hypocritical,” Even notes, and Isak nods, relaxes at the understanding note in his voice.

“And my mum, she – she was in a rough spot already. I kind of left her hanging.”

He feels the guilt flood his veins, as he does each time he looks back and realizes what his mum must’ve been going through.

“Was it because of your dad?”

“That, too,” Isak says. Her illness, he still struggles to talk about it. He’s gradually learnt to accept it, got used to it, but he still finds it hard to tell other people. “She has – a thing.”

He gestures towards his brain, a little skittish. Opening his mouth to continue, nothing comes out.

“Is she ill?” Even asks, instantly more serious. At Isak’s nod, he shuffles closer and puts his hands on Isak’s knees. Comforting, reassuring. “Shit, Isak, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Only now does Isak realise he’s still sitting in front of the camera, the lights focused on him, as if he in the middle of an interrogation. Somehow, with Even in front of him, he’s completely forgotten about the documentary.

“Don’t worry. I just – don’t like to talk about it,” Isak says, shaking his head a little. Even’s hands stay on his knees, now rubbing little circles into the fabric of his jeans. While soothing, Isak soon realizes it might be dangerous as well. He finds his body curling towards the touch, gravitating towards the other boy. If Even looked up, their heads would be just inches apart.

“Still, I didn’t mean to pry,” Even says, pausing his thumbs momentarily.

Isak doesn’t know where he gets the courage, but he picks up his own hand to cover Even’s. It stills completely.

“Isak, I wanted to ask –“

A loud bang makes them startle apart. Eskild’s voice carries towards them, sing-song, from the hall: “I’m here!”

It feels unsteady without Even’s palms grounding him, yet Isak jumps up from the couch as if it caught on fire. Even does the same, standing up quickly, and they almost crash into each other. Before Eskild has a chance to walk in on them, visibly flustered, Isak makes a beeline for his backpack.

“Gotta study, have fun!”

He bumps into Eskild’s shoulder on his way out of the room, gives the two boys a short glance. Even still stands rooted to the same spot, his cheeks pink. Eskild looks from Isak to Even, to the prepared living room setup. “Did I miss something?”

Knowing he’s going to have to face a full-on questioning later, Isak doesn’t bother with an answer, and slips into his room with a small smile.

***

Upon a quick overview of their material, Even and his co-director Mikael decide their documentary about Oslo’s gay culture is missing something. Parties. Thus, Friday, a week later, finds them both dragging their interview subjects on a night out, and, inexplicably, Isak finds himself among the group.

There’s also Noora and the girls, and Jonas, so it’s not like he’s completely out of place. Still, going from gay club to gay club when he only has one measly, drunken experience with them (one he doesn’t remember, at that) is – a little surreal.

It’s their third destination for the night, a club in Grünerløkka, when Even decides to turn off the camera.

“I think we’ve got enough!” he tells the interviewees. It’s not like their work thus far had been terribly demanding, dancing and drinking, yet they all relax at the sight of the camera disappearing.

“Yeah, let’s have some fun!” Mikael supplies, bagging up the tripod he’s been carrying around. Eskild and Eva, who Isak’s been talking to, let out a loud whoop and disappear in a throng of dancers. Looking around, he realises most of the group has already dispersed itself, and he finds himself standing by the bar alone. He orders a beer, simultaneously glad to be on his own for once, and missing the group’s security. Looking at them enjoying themselves, gyrating to the loud music, some of them dancing with their partners, he feels a fish out of water.

“Can I have a beer?” Even sits down on the stool next to him, addressing the bartender. His shoulder nudges Isak’s and he grins. “Getting into the mood?”

“Trying,” Isak says and smiles into his own pint.

“Here you go, Even,” the bartender puts the drink in front of them, and Isak’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re a regular, then?”

“Something like that,” Even chuckles sheepishly, and gulps down half of the beer. Isak suspects it’s to hide his flush. He feels his own heartbeat pick up.

Ever since the fake-interview in their living room, Isak’s been growing more and more convinced that his crush on Even might not be as one-sided as he’d imagined. Whenever he’d come to visit, he would make sure to get the filming out of the way as quickly as possible, and then linger to talk to Isak. He’d sit right next to him on the couch, watching movies, and explain excitedly what he liked about them. He’d ask Isak more questions, not needing the guise of the camera, and tell him things about himself as well. About his ex-girlfriend, Sonja, who’s just moved to France. About his parents. That time he made an entire feature film with stick figures. And he’d always keep touching Isak. A hand on the shoulder, legs pressed side-by-side, a pat on the back. Yes, Isak felt justified in his suspicions.

“Easy, tiger,” Isak says, once Even’s done drinking. “This way you’ll be dancing on the tables in no time.”

“Maybe I just need some liquid courage,” Even shrugs, eyebrows raising in a subtle challenge. Isak shakes his head fondly.

Just then a hand comes down on Isak’s shoulder, and a voice yells directly into his ear: “Isak! Jonas texted us you’re all here!”

It’s Magnus and Mahdi, in varying states of drunkenness. While the latter seems to be tipsy and satisfied, the latter leans into Isak, his words slurring: “And Even’s here, too!”

He goes to hug Even, whom he’s only met once, and forces his way between them, gesturing at the bartender.

“You should interview us, too!” he says, once he’s ordered a beer. “Make us famous!”

“Uh, I’m not sure, Magnus,” Even says, a little apologetic. “Already interviewed Isak, though.”

Isak wants to disappear. He’s not sure a drunk Magnus is the best person to tell Even’s interviewed him for his film about gay –

“Oh, cool. What did you talk about?” Magnus asks, nonplussed. He takes a swig of his beer and looks at them both with curiosity. Even gives Isak a small glance, obviously uncertain.

“I just pretended to be Eskild while Even set his things up,” he explains. “And we talked about how I moved in with him.”

“Oh,” Magnus’ eyebrows shoot up, and he claps Even on the back with so much force he almost slams his torso into the bar. “That was _brutal_ , man. Isak was going through hell.”

The boy in question tries to protest, but Magnus suddenly remembered Mahdi, and he points at him, expecting him to agree. “Wasn’t it? His mum was just –“

Magnus shakes his head, as if he can’t find the right words to describe her. Isak tries to speak up again, but Mahdi jumps in: “Yeah, Isak had a tough time back then. Didn’t talk to us, didn’t even sleep –“

“It wasn’t that bad,” Isak finally manages to get a word in, slamming his empty glass on the table for emphasis. He can feel all their eyes on himself, squirms at the discomfort. “And anyway, it’s been half a year.”

“I see,” Even finally says, so quiet Isak has to read the words off his lips to understand him in the loud club. He looks sympathetic, thoughtful, but almost forlorn. When Isak wants to meet his gaze, he shifts it, and stands up from the bar stool. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He sounds sincere, yet claps Isak on the shoulder half-heartedly, and slips away; Mahdi immediately slips into his empty seat: “Man, that guy is awesome.”

“Yeah,” Isak mumbles, watching Even’s tall silhouette disappear among the crowd. He looks back at one point, seems to startle at Isak’s gaze. Then he’s swallowed by the dancers and Isak doesn’t see him anymore. In fact, he doesn’t see him again the entire night.

***

And then Even stops coming over to their apartment. Although it’s barely been two months since his first visit, Isak feels like there’s a gaping hole left behind their regular hangouts. He gets into a fight with Noora, Linn spends most of her days locked up in her room, and Eskild is either working, or scolding Isak for his bad mood. Which, naturally, only gets him into an even worse mood.

Even stops responding to his texts, too. If he had a Facebook profile, Isak’s pretty sure he’d be blocked by now. He doesn’t understand why the sudden silence. Can’t remember offending Even, or telling him – has he read the whole situation wrong? Maybe Even realised Isak had a crush on him, and didn’t want to reject him outright.

After a week of pervasive doubts and questions, Isak corners Eskild as he’s coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

“Are you done filming the documentary?” he asks without preamble.

Eskild widens his stance, grinning: “Why? Can’t wait to see my face on the big screen?”

“Sure,” he says, not getting anywhere. “It’s just – Even hasn’t been over in a while.”

Eskild’s eyes narrow, his grin gets wider. He squeezes Isak’s cheek, the towel almost falling at the abrupt gesture. “Oh, look at you! How cute you are!”

If Isak wasn’t blushing before, now he definitely is. Feeling like he’s not emotionally equipped to cross this bridge right now, he shrugs Eskild’s hand off and escapes into his room without muttering another word.

The next day, he’s sitting at the living room table, watching Transformers 4 on his laptop, when Eskild throws a random USB stick at him.

“I’ve got the movie!” he says, voice vibrating with excitement. He goes to knock on Noora and Linn’s rooms, then returns with the two girls in tow. All of them huddle around Isak, crowding the small couch so that he instantly feels claustrophobic.

“Finally!” Noora says once she’s lounging comfortably, one leg draped over Isak’s ankle. “I thought they’d never finish it.”

“It’s actually not the final version,” Eskild says, mock-important. “I just went to ask them how it was going, and Mikael said I could have the rough cut. And -”

“Even better,” Linn says, “the good stuff never makes it into the final edit.”

“—before you ask, Isak,” Eskild continues, glaring at Linn for interrupting him. “I didn’t see Even.”

Isak blushes and groans, just barely resisting the urge to smack Eskild over the head. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Just play it already,” Noora says, putting the USB into Isak’s laptop and taking over his touchpad. Moments later, the file is loading up and the movie opens on a shot of one of the clubs, with close-ups of people dancing.

Then Isak freezes as Even’s voice takes over the initial music. He gives a brief history of Oslo’s LGBT+ history, then goes on to describe the first interviewee, a trans girl called Lisa. It goes on like that, the movie introducing the subjects, about ten in total, and interweaving their life stories with on-the-spot footage from all around the city.

They all hoop and scream when Eskild’s part comes on, even Isak. He’s a little surprised when it barely goes on for five minutes, considering how much time Even’s spent in their apartment, but Eskild doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he’s bowing left and right, pretending to give the girls autographs on their arms.

With Eskild’s passage over, Isak’s attention starts wavering. Until another familiar face fills the screen.

There’s Even, sitting behind a kitchen table, looking just like the interviewees before him. A caption with his name and age comes up, and then Mikael’s voice takes on the narration.

“Was it hard, coming out to your parents?” he asks, and Isak doesn’t know what to do with himself. He shifts on the spot, tries to take his gaze off the screen. Movie-Even looks every bit as dreamy as the real version, his hair stylishly coiffed, and eyes glittering. His sincerity is palpable, and although Isak’s glad to at least know Even’s sexuality has nothing to do with his rapid disappearance, he’s still unsure of whether her wants to watch this.

Mikael continues interviewing the other boy, asking him the same generic questions that’ve been given to the people before him. Then, however, Even starts looking increasingly more serious.

“Did you find a support system? Once you figured out your sexuality?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Even says, not looking at the camera anymore. “Some of my friends didn’t quite get it. At first. But they turned around very quickly. Then the –“

Even pauses for a moment, smiles, as if to cover up his nerves. “The bi part stopped being the main problem. It was just a bit harder to deal with, really, because of my bipolar disorder.”

Isak feels as if the whole room gets silent after Even’s admission. He definitely doesn’t hear himself breathing anymore, and he’s not even sure if the others are still in the room with him.

Even, on the screen, continues talking, but he no longer listens. He just gazes at him, with the same longing as before, but with a new sense of understanding. Something clicks into place, as he immediately recalls the last conversation he’s had with Even. He remembers Magnus’ words. He remember his innocuous, yet completely offensive commentary.

He doesn’t care about the movie anymore. He needs to get things right again.

***

Mikael’s assured him that Even would be home within an hour. He’s left him sitting in their kitchen, holding another USB stick in his hands, and obsessively checking the time. He’s been fidgeting with the Chewbacca-shaped USB for the last 45 minutes, yet he feels as if it’s been a whole day. His thoughts alternate between wishing Even would just come already, and appreciating the silence and solitude of the apartment.

At last, he hears the door unlock, hears Even call out a “ _halla_ ”, as if testing who’s home. Isak briefly considers responding, but decides against it and remains seated behind the table, nerves on fire.

Even enters the kitchen without sparing him a glance, heading straight for the fridge. When Isak clears his throat, the other boy jumps at the spot and turns to face him.

“Isak! Oh my god!” he says, visibly amazed to see him.

“Hey,” Isak says, smiling at him tentatively. “Sorry for startling you.”

Even waves his apology away, but seems to be at a loss for words. Instead, he sits down on the opposite side of the table. He watches Isak for a while, his neutral expression gradually softening, and then he asks: “How did you get in?”

“Mikael,” Isak explains simply. Feeling the need to elaborate, he adds the excuse he’s come up with two day ago: “I’ve seen the film you gave Eskild, and wanted to tell you guys it was great.”

“Was it?” Even’s eyebrows shoot up, as if he’s genuinely unsure about Isak’s praise.

“Yes, _duh_ ,” Isak says, still fidgeting with the USB stick. “We had to watch it, like, three times in a row, so Eskild would shut up about it.”

“That’s great, Isak,” Even says. He gets the same kind of sparkle in his eyes now that he used to, the kind that drew Isak in in the first place. “I mean – I’m really glad you like it.”

Even stands up, a little fidgety as well, and gets them both cold sodas from the fridge. Isak takes the bottle and clings to it, knowing that the longer he busies himself with the drink, the more he can delay the real reason he came here.

“It’s not the finished version, though,” Isak says, the sentence coming out almost questioning.

“No, we still have to refine the edit,” Even shrugs in explanation. “Maybe we’ll each make our own director’s cut.”

“Well, Mikael’s left me his,” Isak picks up the USB and puts it on the table in front of Even. “Says he’s made some changes and that you should watch it and give him feedback.”

“Cool,” Even takes the little Chewbacca and goes to stick it into the TV in the living room. He catches himself halfway out of the kitchen, looking back at Isak with a smirk. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to see it again. Ever.”

Instead of answering, Isak gathers all the courage he can find and plops himself onto the living room couch. He could run, let Even watch the movie on his own; it would be easier. But –

The other boy sits down next to him, their knees bumping for a second, and he knows he isn’t going anywhere.

The first half of the movie is pretty much the same as Eskild’s version. Some of the shots are re-arranged in a different order, the sound is a bit clearer, and there is an extra scene where one of the interviewees goes on a blind date with another girl. Afterwards, Isak hears Even take in a harsh breath.

Instead of the original footage, there’s now a scene that shows Isak, sitting in pretty much the same spot as he is now, in the same outfit, with the same apprehensive expression. A caption introduces him, and then Mikael’s voice starts the interview: “So, Isak, when did you realise you might not be entirely straight?”

The Isak on the screen, a little uncomfortable, answers hesitantly: “I think – there were always signs, you know? I even had a crush on my best friend for a year, but you don’t… I realised it might _really_ be a possibility only after moving in with Eskild.”

“So you live together?”

“Just as friends,” Isak clarifies, “But he took me in after finding me pass-out-drunk in a gay bar. So you could say he was essential to my – to me admitting it to myself.”

“Did you hear about this project from Eskild, too?”

“Yeah, he found a post on Facebook, looking for volunteers, and couldn’t shut up about it,” screen-Isak says, the fondness audible in his tone.

“But you didn’t want to be in the movie at first, did you?”

“No,” Isak says, and because he doesn’t seem to be about to continue, Mikael prods him further.

“What changed?”

The movie goes silent, the absence of music eerily pronounced. Isak’s eyes keep darting to the camera and away, he seems just as uncertain as Isak does in real time.

“I met this boy,” screen-Isak finally speaks up, just barely. Then, visibly steeling himself, he straightens up and faces the camera full-on. Mikael doesn’t need to ask any more questions.

“He’s also in the movie, we met through Eskild,” Isak doesn’t dare move, to look at Even and try to gauge his reaction. He focuses on the screen instead, mentally reciting parts of his answers along with his double.

“And he’s – he made me realise there was no point in hiding this part of myself anymore. He’s brave and amazing and I – I want to be like that, too,” Isak feels the pressure at the point where his knee still touches Even’s. He feels the other boy’s tension, hears his loud breathing. It must be a good thing, that he hasn’t leapt of the couch yet, right?

“Does he know that you like him?” Mikael asks.

“I hope so,” Isak says, smiling a little.

“And do you think he likes you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, a touch helplessly, but the smile stays on.

“You should ask him,” Mikael advises, good-naturedly.

Screen-Isak nods, absentmindedly fiddling with his thumbs. “I will.”

Then the screen cuts to black, and the next part of the movie comes on. It’s a scene from another club and the volume picks up as music fills the living room. But it stops just as abruptly, when Even pauses the movie. Isak gulps.

“So,” he asks, in the silence that follows. He moves his head slowly, feels as if his own muscles are working against him. He hesitates a little at the intense stare Even’s aiming at him. “Do _you_?”

That’s it, all out on the line. Isak’s palms are sweating and his breathing speeds up. He doesn’t look away.

“Isak,” Even says, after the longest three seconds of Isak’s life. “Of course.”

They both break into grins, equally dazzling. Isak’s entire body relaxes and Even reaches out to touch his knee. Although he was hoping for this, Isak finds himself a little disbelieving, now that it’s happening. He chuckles, unsure of what to say, but Even solves the problem for him when he leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

It’s exciting, and excruciating, and Isak instantly wants more, so he reaches up to touch Even’s face, turns it slightly. He gets a thrill at the faint hint of stubble, can’t believe it’s really happening. Perhaps to convince himself, once and for all, he finds Even’s lips with his own, and – yeah. It’s real, it’s shaky, it’s perfect.

***

They stay in Even’s flat until the next morning, flat-out ignoring the outside world. They talk a lot, in-between all the kissing, and sleep in Even’s bed, curled around each other. Even makes them pancakes in the morning, lending Isak one of his own shirts and forcing him to listen to some rap songs during breakfast, because apparently Isak’s music taste needs honing. When the last song trails off, and their plates are empty, Isak sees Even’s expression change a little, becoming more serious.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reaching out to stroke the other boy’s cheek.

“Nothing,” Even mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Just – you saw the whole movie, didn’t you?”

Isak nods, and Even continues after a while, careful in choosing his words. “So, you know about my bipolar?”

“Yes,” Isak sucks in a breath. He was expecting the question; in fact, is surprised it didn’t come sooner. “Was it why you started avoiding me?”

Even nods as well, putting his own hand over Isak’s and stilling it. “When Magnus said that your mum – that you went through hell –“

“Even, stop,” Isak says, raising his voice. “That was a different situation. I wasn’t coping well, I was missing my dad – I isolated myself.”

Even strokes his fingers lightly, but his face remains pensive. “But what if –“

“Look,” Isak says, stern. He flips their hands so that he’s now holding Even’s in his palm, and squeezes it tightly. “I want you. _All_ of you.”

That finally gets Even to look up, even as Isak squirms internally at his own cheesiness. Slowly, the gentle smile returns to Even’s face, and they sit in the kitchen for a few more minutes, content to gaze at each other, holding hands.

Then Even stands up and starts cleaning out the table, taking the dishes to the sink. Isak comes to help him, and gets a friendly nudge to his ribs.

“You know,” Even says, automatically handing Isak the towel for drying. “We should film this. Put it in the movie after the credits.”

“Yeah, no,” Isak says, wiping down a plate he’s been handed. “This is just for us.”


End file.
